


Took Me Inside And Then He Rocked Me

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Elevator Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles and Derek are stuck in an elevator….who wouldn’t get creative ideas how to spend the time while waiting for someone to get them out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Took Me Inside And Then He Rocked Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rena/gifts).



> [Inspired by this photoset by Rena](http://candypinkcocks.tumblr.com/post/116671118735/soldieronbarnes-teen-wolf-au-in-which-stiles) Picks up right after this conversation. A PWP of questionable quality. [On Rena's blog](http://soldieronbarnes.tumblr.com/post/57912680639/teen-wolf-au-in-which-stiles-and-derek-are-stuck)
> 
> IM A GIGANTIC MORON WHO FORGOT TO TAG THE FUCKING SHIP HANG ON I NEED TO GO THROW MYSELF INTO THE NEAREST TRASHCAN IM SO SORRY

Taken aback at Derek’s reply, Stiles looks up from the floor looking as bewildered as he feels. “I did?” He asks the werewolf dumbly, feeling his chest grow tight at the heated look Derek’s giving him.  _Had_ he made a good point? To be honest, Stiles had let his frustration (sexual and otherwise) take control of his tongue for a few seconds and he’d blurted out what he had. Usually that combination doesn't lead to him making a good point.  
  


It honestly feels like he’s been in love-lust (lust-love?) with Derek _forever_ instead of almost two years. So Stiles feels that him grumbling about how attractive Derek is and semi-wistfully sharing the notion that them being stuck in an elevator together should involve elevator sex is something no one can blame him for. Man has his limits you know? Especially since, prior to his own comment, Derek had sounded so angry,  _hurt_ at the thought that Stiles wouldn’t want to be stuck in an elevator with Derek.

 

It’s a fairly recent development that Derek’s hurt tone makes Stiles jump to reassure him and try to comfort him. He's been trying to beat that emotion down but so far, Stiles has had little success.  
  


Tl;dr however? Stiles and his big mouth. He’s just past 18 and his brain-to-mouth filter still needs  _a lot_ of work. And his libido is naturally not helping. ’ _But maybe_ ,’ he thinks dizzily as Derek crowds him into a corner,’ _that’s not a bad thing. Oh God, I can feel how warm he is! This is so crazy_!’ Stiles’ sweaty hands seek purchase against the shine chrome under his palms and finds nothing to hold on too. If he turns his head, Stiles is pretty sure his mouth would brush up against Derek's arm. He's  _that_ close.  
  


He swallows reflexively, not sure where to look. There’s just too much he wants to stare at - the dip of Derek’s collar bone that’s being displayed so tantalizingly in front of him, his pale eyes that are all pupil as the werewolf stares at him, the strong lines of his body leaning into him…  
  


Wetting his chapped lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, Stiles wills some strength into his legs and stands straighter. He’s face to face with Derek now, wondering why every inhale feels like he’s drinking in the sweetest fire. “If I’ve got a point,” Stiles begins to ask in a low voice, looking at Derek’s mouth. He blinks and looks up at heated green eyes. “does that mean what I think it means?”  
  


Derek’s hands remain flat against the wall behind Stiles but he shifts forward, pressing himself right up against the teenager. Stiles feels the breath in his lungs rush out in surprise, not ready for how hot, how  _firm_ , how  _amazing_ Derek’s body feels against his own.  
  


“ _Jesus_!” Stiles gasps, hands finally deciding to join the party. They immediately latch onto Derek’s shirt. He clutches the soft material that Derek’s wearing, harder still when Derek slips one firm thigh between Stiles’ shaking knees. With a loud grunt, Stiles slams his head back into the wall and rocks down. 

 

 _Fuck_ that feels better than he thought it would. There’s stars and universes’ flashing behind his closed eyes. Which, when had that happened? It’s a struggle to open his eyes and look at Derek. But he manages it. It's harder still to gather the courage to glare halfheartedly at Derek and complain breathlessly, “This doesn’t answer my question you know.” 

 

Derek’s hands press high against his rib cage, learning the shape of Stiles’ torso before they slip under his clothes to touch heated skin. “You wanted ‘hot elevator sex’.”

 

How was it even possible for Derek to take his ridiculous words and make them sound so damned  _hot_?   
  


But something isn’t adding up here. If only Stiles can get his brain to cooperate and figure out what it is but there’s Derek’s hands pushing, pulling on his shirts and who is Stiles to disagree with this plan? Wait.  
  


Stiles presses his hands against Derek’s chest, earning himself a displeased look in the process. “ _Why_ are you doing this?” He asks, curious and wary at the same time. Surely it’s not that simple and if it  _was_ as simple as just telling Derek that he wants them to have sex (and more), Stiles is going to hit his head into a wall and groan. __  
  
  


He’s not surprised when Derek levels him with his standard 'you idiot’ glare that he tends to direct at the pack once a week, at least. The fondness behind it however, throws Stiles for a complete loop. “You think I’m good looking.” Derek answers in a total non-sequitur. Frowning in confusion at the werewolf, Stiles wants to ask what's  _that_  got to do with anything but Derek’s leaning down to kiss his neck.  
  


A garbled noise falls out from his mouth, warm pleasure spreading through Stiles’ body. His hands relocate themselves to grab Derek’s face and card through his hair, loving how it feels under his palms. Stiles can’t hear anything over the rush of his own blood and ragged breathing so he catches only the tail end of Derek’s words. “What?” He breathes out in surprise. Where they still talking?   
  


Derek pulls back, gaze half-mast as he stares at Stiles through dark lashes. Stiles wants to lean in and press his lips there, brush his fingertips over the sooty lashes and see if they’re as soft as he thinks they are. “I didn’t think that you wanted me like this.” Derek repeats in a low voice.   
  


Stiles blinks in surprise, mouth falling open and flapping slightly as he struggles to find the right words because  _what_? “Are you kidding me?! Why the hell would you think that?” He winds up exclaiming all too loudly. “I’ve wanted you for _ever_! Have you  _seen_ you? Have you _met_ you?  I thought I was stupidly obvious!”  
  


And really, he had! Pretty much everyone in the pack had approached him one time or another, either asking him to grow a pair and act on his attraction towards Derek (offering him their personal brand of advice along the way) and/or telling him to stop stinking the room up with his lust for Derek. Like he could help the latter when Derek was walking around in just his sweaty undershirt! Stiles  _assumed_ that if the others had picked up his attraction, then Derek must have as well. 

 

“But you never said anything.” Derek replies with a heavy frown, sticking close to Stiles.  
  


Flushing, Stiles looks down at the ugly carpet and grumbles, “Well, yeah. Look at you and then look at me.” It’s obvious why he’s never said anything because Stiles is so far out of Derek’s league that you couldn’t even pick him on a radar. Or something. He’s just way out of Derek’s league. And Stiles doesn't want to admit that he thought Derek had realized Stiles' feelings and ignored them. That one just... hurts.   
  


The silence between them is uncomfortable. Stiles’ hands twitch. He wants to push Derek away, grab his shirts and just -“I  _am_  looking at you.” Derek speaks. The rough voice is coupled with a gentle hand tilting his head up to look at Derek. Stiles stares back nervously when the hand slides down to cup his jaw. “I always thought that it was the other way around.”  
  


It’s a day for all kinds of surprises. Stiles gapes at Derek, frowning slightly before shaking his head in denial. That can’t be. How can  _he_ be out of Derek’s league? It’s _really_ the other way around. Before he can say this, there’s two fingers pressed against his lips to keep him quiet.   
  


Unable to argue back, Stiles stares into Derek’s eyes and feels an embarrassed flush creep up his neck.

 

Oh. 

 

 _Oooooh_.

 

Well.

 

This isn’t something that Stiles ever thought was in the realm of possibility.

 

Does this also mean that if Stiles had made a move sooner, Derek would have accepted and reciprocated?  
  


Heat sinks its claws into his chest, bleeding lust over his heart before gripping it tight. Stiles sucks in a breath and parts his lips, wanting to kiss and lick at Derek’s fingers. He feels Derek’s little jerk against it and his heart squeezes once more, making him groan into Derek’s fingers.  
  


“Your mouth…” Derek hisses, feeding Stiles a third digit. Stiles moans happily around the mouthful, making a damned mess of the whole affair. “Fuck,  _Stiles_.” Never before has Stiles found his own name to be such a damned turn on, but no one’s ever said it in that broken, hot tone before. He bites down gently on bony knuckles, hands grabbing Derek by the hips and dragging him roughly forward.  
  


The rough clash of their covered groins is painful but well worth it because he can  _feel_  Derek’s straining length rubbing against his own. Stiles' hands slip down, intent on getting inside Derek's jeans. It's a minor relief that Derek takes his hand back because then Stiles can look down and see what he's dealing with. “I hate your jeans.” He complains breathlessly, shivering when he sees Derek’s hands mirroring his actions. While his hands are shaking and fumbling in the simple act of unbuttoning and unzipping Derek’s jeans, the werewolf’s hands are quick and confident as they deal with Stiles’ jeans.  
  


His hands freeze when Derek’s hand slide straight into his underwear and wrap around his cock. “Derek!” Stiles gasps in surprise. “ _Fuck_! Som-some warning next time!?” The werewolf’s mouth latches onto his skin, mouthing the curve between Stiles’ shoulder and neck before sucking hard.   
  


Back sliding against the wall, the teenager whines and rocks into Derek’s hand and mouth, desperate for more. Derek’s done nothing more than tease him and Stiles feels close to coming his brains out. Usually the pleasure builds up slow and steady, but this is like a tsunami washing over him. There’s no preparing for it. Stiles gasps, struggling to stay afloat as the pleasure rolls over him, going higher and higher until-  
  


The whine that falls out from his throat is embarrassingly high. Later Stiles will think back on it and blush hard. He’ll hide his face against Derek’s shoulder and grumble that the werewolf is a terrible person and that Stiles will exact his revenge upon a later, undisclosed date. And Derek will laugh, quiet and amused before pressing a kiss in Stiles’ hair and say that he’s looking forward to that.  
  


Right now? He just cants his hips up into Derek’s hand that is still stroking him through his orgasm. Stiles feels nothing but pleasure, pleasure and more pleasure singing through his body as clever fingers milk his orgasm for all it’s worth. He gasps and shudders and  _breaks_  against Derek, moaning his name like a desperate prayer.  
  


Stiles is certain that he’s having an out of body experience. Or maybe his body’s gone through some kind of change because of the sweet, sweet werewolf sex he’s just had. Or his brain has fried because Derek’s licking his own fingers clean. That’s just unfair. Stiles wants to complain about this but the best he can scrounge up is a desperate whimper.  
  


He flushes when Derek looks  _right_ at him and sucks his fingers clean. So,  _so_ unfair. “That…” Stiles croaks, pausing to look down at Derek’s hands pushing his numb fingers away to deal with his jeans. Wow. Stiles can’t feel anything but a tingling sensation from his fingers. And toes come to think of. That’s both cool and a little freaky. “That was…” He tries again and fails completely when he sees Derek pushing his jeans down.   
  


There’s no underwear between his hands and Derek’s junk. The giddy realization spurs Stiles into action. His hands immediately shove their way forward and cup the hard length there. Derek groans almost immediately. The sound of it pulls Stiles’ attention away from where he’s thumbing the pre-come gathering at the tip of the flushed length.  
  


Although his eyes are squeezed shut, its easy to tell that Derek’s enjoying this. Stiles stares in wonder at the high color on Derek’s cheeks and wonders what other kinds of expression the usually stoic werewolf will make. Experimentally, Stiles drags his dry palm up and down in a slow stroke before stroking his thumb under the dark head.  
  


Derek’s expressions twists, just like his hips which rock up, fucking up into Stiles’ hand. “Stiles!” The loud cry makes Stiles’ cock twitch with interest again, along with the desire to hear Derek say his name like that over and over again. It’s that want that makes Stiles pump Derek harder, hoping that Derek will call his name out again.   
  


He’s expecting the werewolf to last longer than he did. After all, Derek is older and more experienced. But it doesn’t take more than a few strokes for Derek to curl over him, groaning his release into Stiles’ shoulder while the pinpricks of his claws dig into Stiles’ hips. The teenager shudders and jumps when he feels the hot splash of Derek’s come on his stomach. A few drops even fall on his crotch which probably shouldn't be as hot as Stiles thinks it is.  
  


Stiles jumps once more when Derek’s hand wraps around his own and stops him, groaning loudly when Stiles' thumb brushes against Derek's wet slit. He stares in awe at the sticky come that’s dripping between their fingers and onto his skin. “Wow.” Stiles whispers, sounding seriously wrecked. 

 

Something in his brain has been broken beyond repair because he and Derek just had sex. In an elevator. With _each other_.  There’s a warm huff that brushes over his neck, bringing his brain back down to Earth. Stiles smiles and tries not to preen when Derek’s trembling hand presses flat against his belly and rubs the come into Stiles’ skin. Humming, the teenager rolls his head back and arches up into the touch. It feels so filthy good that he can’t stop himself from smiling and moaning to encourage Derek.

 

Grinning stupidly at the bright ceiling, Stiles sighs once more, “ _Wow_.” Sex with Derek is  _awesome_. “We need to do this more often. Like,  _all the time_.” He moans the last word out, the sound skittering dangerously past laughter because Derek’s hands come close to the ticklish spot on his ribs.  
  


The werewolf quirks an eyebrow at him, sliding his hands (one of them is  _seriously_ sticky, Stiles notes) around Stiles’ back. “Did I break you?” Derek asks in a conversational tone, like they haven’t just had life changing sex in an elevator. Like his shirt wasn't a total casualty as a result. Oh. Stiles glares at Derek's shirt and wonders why he hadn’t had the presence of mind to take that stupid thing off Derek in the first place.  
  


Next time, Stiles decides as he slips his own sticky hands under the dark material and touches warm skin. He grins lust-stupid up at Derek, watching him watch him before asking, “What?” Stiles isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get an answer back. It’s Derek after all. And he still isn’t surprised when he feels Derek pulling him closer, eyes dropping to Stiles’ mouth with clear intent.  
  


His heart beat races once more, eager for the kiss that’s he’s about to receive. Stiles clutches back at the werewolf and wonders what kind of Derek is going to give him. Will it be tender? Soft? Hard? Demanding? Stiles is ready and eager for any kind of kiss.  
  


Derek’s breath puffs over Stiles’ parted lips when a heavy creak rings in the air. The pair blink stupidly at each other before turning as one to stare at the closed doors. There’s another creak clank, from above this time before the elevator jerks up. “Shit!” Stiles stumbles into Derek’s body, yelping as he does so.  
  


As one, the pair make a mad dash to fix themselves back into a semi-respectable state. As Stiles yanks his shirts on, he thinks that might be a lost cause. Just look at Derek’s shirt, the musky smell of sex in the air and Stiles is pretty certain that there’s a neon sigh blinking over his head that’s cheerfully declaring 'Finally had sex with Derek Hale and it was awesome!’  
  


His brain’s voice is drowned out under the sound of 'I just had sex’ blasting at full volume in his head so Stiles is on his own. “Just be cool.” Stiles hisses at Derek, shoving his top shirt at the werewolf. “Put this on and button it up. It might cover the…” He waves his hand at the half dried come crusting Derek’s shirt.   
  


Derek eyes the mess, Stiles’ shirt and then smirks. Oh, Stiles is not going to like this answer. “I don’t need it.” The werewolf all but purrs, yanking Stiles forward. Stiles yelps, half of it falling right into Derek’s mouth as they kiss. The firm but tender contact makes Stiles melt into the werewolf’s body, arms wrapping around broad shoulders to keep himself from crumpling to the floor in a swoon.  
  


There’s a distant clank and a softer ding that signals the doors being open. Not that Stiles remembers this important fact, opting instead to focus his entire attention on how Derek’s sucking on Stiles'  _tongue_. But then there’s this surprised noise and a quick hoot of laughter that makes the teenager pull away with a start.   
  


The trio standing in front of the open door look equal parts amused and resigned, like they’re used to the sight of people making out in a newly repaired elevator. “Sorry for interrupting you boys.” The balding man drawls, “but the elevator’s fixed now. If you wanna leave…”  
  


Stiles can’t grab Derek and leave fast enough. Especially when he catches sight of several people eye Derek and his shirt and make all kinds of faces. Most of them being scandalized but there’s quite a few leers involved too. “I’m never coming here again.” Stiles groans under his breath, feeling the blush on his face turn hotter when the comment makes Derek’s grip on his hand grow tighter.  


End file.
